The blog for the cult Manhattan cable-access TV show that offers viewers the best in "everything from high art to low trash... and back again!" Find links to rare footage, original reviews, and reflections on pop culture and arthouse cinema.

Thursday, August 25, 2016

There are only a few functioning repertory theaters in NYC,
but each one serves a specific purpose in terms of its programming and the
audience it attracts. The forte of the programmers at the Anthology Film Archives is presenting retrospectives of filmmakers who have “fallen through
the cracks” of film history and whose work won’t likely be slated for DVD
release any time soon.

Some of these retrospectives receive press attention, others
do not — for example, the Marcel Hanoun festival is now a distant memory.
A recent five-program festival of the work of filmmaker Curt McDowell (18 out
of his 27 films) did receive press coverage. It was linked to a gallery exhibit
at Participant Inc on Houston Street called “THINGS: a queer legacy of
graphic art and play” (which included several paintings by McDowell) and was
co-presented by MIX NYC and the Academy Film Archive.

A blogger at Strubloghas already done a great job of placing
McDowell’s films in their context in the gay press, but I wanted to directly
discuss the films themselves — McDowell’s style, his experiments in genre, the
best (and not-so-best) films, and his particular niche in the underground film
world. Two of the special subgenres he pioneered are incredibly absorbing and
transformative — the first is his “diary” films about his sex life; the other is his brilliantly funny "mini-musicals," which were, for this reviewer, the
best part of the AFA retrospective.

"Beaver Fever" (1974)

I’m going to omit from this account any discussion of
McDowell’s best-known film and one of the most unique and memorable cult movies
in history, Thundercrack! (1975). That picture deserves its
own blog entry and has been on the repertory circuit since it
was first released (it is now even on DVD in an authorized edition). It is a
savagely funny and lewd combination of an “old dark house” spoof, high
melodrama, and hardcore pornography. It was scripted by George Kuchar (Curt’s
close friend, mentor, and lover) and qualifies as both McDowell’s and Kuchar’s
best-ever full-length feature. More to come on that title.

The reason the Anthology series was so invaluable to those
of us who love Thundercrack! is that McDowell’s films have
been so difficult to see for so long. Curiously, the institution we can thank
for nearly all of the restorations in the festival is the Academy of Motion
Picture Arts and Sciences — the Oscars may consistently reward the work of
tediously conventional moviemakers, but the Academy’s restoration efforts are clearly a lot more open-minded.

"Loads" (1980)

The “confessional”/diary films are entirely unique creations
that are as personal as cinema can get. The most famous title, “Loads” (1980, shot earlier),
finds McDowell narrating, telling us about the men he brought back to the loft
space he used as his studio for sex. His objects of obsession were effortlessly
macho straight men, who were fine with showing their bodies to Curt’s camera.

The film is definitely art, but it also contains hardcore
porn imagery. McDowell gives blow jobs to his subjects and is left at points
with jizz in his mustache (this is not a filmmaker who chose to hide behind his
camera). In “Loads” and “Ronnie” (1972), a short that seems to be an outtake
from the former film, it is spelled out that he paid the men for their time and
is quite unabashed about wanting to keep the memories of their encounters fresh
by chronicling the sex they had.

"Ronnie" (1972)

“Loads” and “Ronnie” are indeed eye-openers, but the most
moving diary piece on an emotional level is “Confessions” (1971), a short in
which McDowell confesses his many indiscretions to the camera as if we, the
viewers, are his parents. He provides a laundry list of the things he’s done
since his childhood which involve sex and drugs. He then shows us his friends,
whom he clearly asked to talk about him. The result is a rather touching
self-portrait, since the very un-guilty McDowell seems fine with airing his
dirty laundry. (This would be the place to note that Curt sadly died at the young age
of 42 from AIDS in 1987.)

While some of the lengthier films have shifts in tone that
are jarring, McDowell’s shorts (30 minutes and under) are mostly sublime. One
particularly odd format he forged with a friend is represented by two shorts
("A Visit to Indiana," 1970; "Truth for Ruth," 1972) that present 8mm footage with an “audio commentary” of a sort. This commentary
consists of Curt discussing what is in the footage (his relatives in Indiana, a
woman walking on a beach), while Ted Davis, an eager fellow with a deeper voice
and a cavalier, all-American, attitude keeps commenting on what Curt has just
said. The juxtaposition is smart and very funny, since it was seemingly meant
to put the filmmaker on the defensive and make the interrogator the "auteur" of the project.

"Confessions" (1971)

Poster for "Peed Into
the Wind" (1972)

One of the funnier, longer shorts — with a plot that runs
aground, but with some individual sequences that are great — is “Peed Into the
Wind” (1972). The film features one of McDowell’s best roles in his own films
(he was otherwise used very well by George Kuchar), as “Mick Terrific,” a
pompadoured rock star who drives women insane but is actually gay — or is he?
One of the film’s funniest scenes finds Mick’s friend challenging him, telling
him that he’s “a latent heterosexual.” Mick’s verbal response and subsequent
“fight” with the other gent are wonderful, and drive home the silliness of
people who try to hide their real orientation.

Mick regrets his decision to “play” queer when he finds out
that the girl he loved (sorta) has died. She in fact left him one of her legs
as a memento (McDowell’s sense of humor is very much in line with the Kuchars
and John Waters).

His last fewfilms, all of them longer, are his most
ambitious (for one he even got a grant from the NEA).
Thundercrack! is by all measures the best and most
audience-pleasing (again, if the audience has a very open mind), but the other
two films are equally “epic” for an undergrounder. Chronologically,
Sparkle’s Tavern comes after
Thundercrack! because it was shot in 1976; McDowell ran out
of money to complete it, so it remained unedited and unreleased until the
mid-Eighties. The rarest of the films in the Anthology festival (since it
exists in only one circulating 16mm print), it is also the biggest mixed bag —
comedy and drama, good performances and terrible ones, fantasy scenes taking
place in dreamlike spaces and location-shot sequences that are time capsules.

Poster for Sparkle's Tavern

It occurs in its own time and place that resembles, by
turns, Busby Berkeley’s “Gold Diggers” films (albeit with no budget and soft-porn
content), a Fifties teen-angst melodrama, and a proudly polysexual Seventies
underground camp comedy. The film’s plot is characteristically crazy: Beth Sue
(Melinda McDowell, Curt’s winsomely cute sister) and Buster (Jerry Terranova) are siblings who
run a nightclub/brothel. They keep this a secret from their scarily wholesome
mom (Marion Eaton) and are both threatened with blackmail by people who know
about their wild sex lives. Into this picture steps a magical figure, Mr. Pupik
(George Kuchar), who “liberates” the characters by having them participate in a
ritual that opens their minds (and their loins) to the joys of sex.

Sparkle’s Tavern is incredibly ambitious
for a micro-budgeted feature. The character of Beth Sue/Sparkle has two suitors
(one of whom has his own plot strand, while another is a nerdy Greek chorus who
serves very little purpose in the film but takes up a lot of screen time).
There is also a “mystery” cowboy figure who delivers a dramatic monologue near
the center of the film — it’s a jarring inclusion, since McDowell’s most
effective moments of drama in his other films are his own “confessions.”

Also jarring is the fact that the film starts out on a very
funny lurid level and then its sexual content tapers off, in favor of
metaphorically sexual moments. For example, one of the best “inventions” in the
early nightclub/brothel sequences are sleazy little cubicles called “suck
stalls” in which the hostesses give blow jobs to men they never see through glory holes — allowing
Buster to substitute for one of them on occasion.

Maron Eaton, Sparkle's Tavern

The film’s golden moments all involve two characters — the
mother and Mr. Pupik (which is Yiddish for “belly button”). Marion Eaton proved
herself a fearless performer in Thundercrack! playing a
sexually greedy voyeur who has a way with a cucumber. Here she is nearly as
amazing, albeit as a very inhibited housewife whose sexual awakening as a
result of Pupik’s odd ritual is one of the film’s highlights.

George Kuchar in Sparkle's Tavern

Eaton certainly is a camp performer to be reckoned with, but
George Kuchar also rates as an “MVP” for his stunningly upbeat and unabashedly
manic turn as the jaunty Pupik. I’ve rhapsodized about George before on this blog, but was stunned by how incredibly funny he is in McDowell’s films.
He is literally buoyant, stealing every scene he’s in. The only person who
matches his energy is Eaton, who serves as his foil in
Sparkle as he explains his philosophy of life in a series of
rhyming dialogues that are often sung (he accompanies himself with a saxophone
and a tambourine!).

George played romantic leads in his own films and in those
of his brother Mike, but McDowell gave him the “hero” roles he always wanted.
He was always a compulsively watchable performer (the reason his meandering
“weather diaries” are so entertaining). Camp is balanced with sincerity every
time George is onscreen, and he truly was the standout performer in all of the
McDowell films shown in the retro (Eaton and the very attractive and intense
Ainslie Pryor were close seconds).

Melinda McDowell Milks spoke after the screening of
Sparkle, discussing the ways in which the plot points that
involved parental acceptance of sexual behavior were indeed a sort of wish
fulfillment on Curt’s part — his parents knew he was gay and accepted his lifestyle, but did not want to
talk to people in their Indiana hometown about Curt's sexuality.

She also discussed the making of the film, revealing that
all the sets — which included the nightclub, some very detailed and realistic
bedrooms, and a kitchen — were constructed by Curt and friends in the nine
months in which Curt and Melinda lived in the bathroom/kitchen-less space in
which the film was shot (the same space in which “Loads” was filmed).

The other longer work, Taboo (the Single and the
LP) (1981), is the most feverish of McDowell’s films. He juggles several
“strands,” all of them centered around sentences of graffiti on a wall. The
film is rife with flashcuts and quick swerves, between characters, situations,
and a real-life portrait of one of Curt’s friends (who recounts his sex life
with his girlfriend, at the filmmaker’s request).

*****

McDowell had a penchant for being involved in every aspect
of his filmmaking, from scripting, camerawork, and editing to set design,
costumes, animation, and the musical score. He started out as a painter — his
disturbing and haunting portrait of the Beatles is to the right.

It’s no surprise then that the most entertaining films
included in the retro were his “mini-musical” shorts. The films are actually
operettas, with the characters singing their dialogue or speaking rhyming text.
The “handmade” aspect of these films comes across in the fact that Curt’s
friends couldn’t really carry a tune (except for Ainslie Pryor, who is seen here singing on TV several years later). The singing was also done live on-set, accompanied
by what sounds like a piano being played out of frame.

Ainslie Pryor in "Boggy Depot" (1973)

Short “trailers” in which McDowell’s actresses sang their
welcomes to patrons of San Francisco’s Roxy Theater and hyped the weekend
midnight shows were placed at the beginning of each Anthology program. “Boggy
Depot” (1973) and “The Mean Brothers Get Stood Up” (also ‘73) found Curt and
his costar (and frequent collaborator) Mark Ellinger tormenting other characters
(the former) or singing about how they’d like to kill people (the latter).

"A
Night with Gilda Peck” (also ’73) is a deranged meller in which a criminal
(George Kuchar) breaks into the house of a haughty (and extremely tacky) woman
(the actress billed as “Mrs. Kathleen Hohalek”) in an attempt to rape and rob
her, with musical merriment ensuing when all the characters enter her bedroom
and feud among themselves while singing.

The poster for "Weiners and Buns Musical"

“Weiners and Buns Musical” (1972) was the piece de
resistance of the musicals in the retrospective (which will, according to the
Anthology programmers, conclude later in the year). Absolute camp perfection,
the film finds a housewife (a very prim Ainslie Pryor) and her businessman
husband (a quite debonair, made-up George Kuchar), singing about the death of
their young son and cheating on each other with the same man, a sailor (Curt,
in his swabby finest).

Over a dinner of the titular comestibles the three leads
decide to continue their affairs as a threesome — while Curt apologizes for
having murdered their little boy (who no one cared about, anyway). Sheer bliss,
and another reason one hopes that more of McDowell’s work — and some of George
Kuchar’s (237 films and videos, and not a one available legally!) — is released
on DVD soon.

Note: Some of the images above are from online postings by Melinda McDowell Milks; their copyright is owned by the Curt McDowell estate.

Saturday, August 6, 2016

The weather might’ve been awful, but the music was
wonderful. And there was a helluva lot of Lou Reed’s music
sung, played, recited, projected, and “droned” at the marathon Lincoln Center
Out of Doors event called “The Bells: a Daylong Celebration of Lou Reed” this
past Saturday. Those of us who saw all three live shows got a bit more than six
and a half hours (!) of live performance — that doesn’t count the Reed-related
special events and free video screenings.

I didn’t have the chance to check out the drone event (an
installation in which six of Lou’s guitars played feedback), nor did I rewatch
any of the Lou-movies (what, no Get Crazy?) Two martial arts
performances were also staged — the second was memorable, not only because the
participants were quite gifted, but because a “pushing hands” exhibition was
staged (and timed perfectly) to the Velvet Underground’s “Heroin” (although
this was not to be the most strikingly unusual use of Velvets’ music during the
day).

The fact that the stage shows were sublime was welcome, of
course, but not a surprise, since the day was produced, programmed,
masterminded, coordinated, devised, and executed in benevolent mad scientist
style by Laurie Anderson and Hal Willner (whose great live shows I have raved about before on this blog).

The three shows each had a different tone. The first was a
pure rock ‘n’ roll tribute to Lou; the second was a reading of lyrics that went
from the genuinely touching to the bizarre; the third was the most affectionate
of the shows, in which the purported theme was Lou’s “love songs,” but Laurie
assured us at the outset that the setlist would “stretch the definition” of
that term.

The rock ‘n’ roll show started off innocently enough, with
MC Don Fleming presenting a band of little girls (called “Unidentified”) doing
“We’re Gonna Have a Real Good Time Together” (because, of course, “Venus in
Furs” was already taken….) The fact that the show skewed toward “downtown” NYC
performers kicked in with Jesse Malin of D Generation doing the VU anthem “Rock‘n’ Roll” (the first Lou Reed
song this reviewer ever heard, thanks to WNEW-FM several eons ago).

After Malin, Joan as Police Woman sang “Ecstasy” from
the album of the same name (one of only two songs that appeared in both tribute
concerts, and the only one to be sung both times by the same person). At this
point, yrs truly began taking pictures — I forgot my digital camera at home and
instead was consigned to the living death that is photography with a phone.
Thankfully, blogger “Mr C” brought a video camera to the show and captured some
great performances for his Planet Chocko blog (linked to throughout this piece — like me, he was able to chronicle the early show better than the later two).

Joan as Police Woman in the early show. photo by Ed G.

The bulk of the songs covered in the first show were from
the earlier part of Lou's career and — despite the fact that two gents were
wearing Lou-ish leather jackets (Malin and Jon Spencer) — women seemed to do
the freshest interpretations of the material. Felice Rosser did a killer “White
Light, White Heat,” while Tammy Faye Starlight provided one of the standout
performances by filtering Lou's song “Chelsea Girls” through her Nico
impression. Her mocking-in-character the song's wordiness and the instrumental
solos punctuating the piece made her turn only one of two comedy segments of
the day (beside a later bit performed by Willem Dafoe — yes, you read that
right, see below).Jon Spencer came closest to offering the male equivalent to
Tammy Faye, by taking off his belt and administering a Gerard Malanga-style
whip-dance beating to his guitar during (what else?) “Venus in Furs.” The
young-Lou songs kept coming, all rendered in delirious fashion (the later show
was equally sublime but was more somber in tone). Guitarist Matt Sweeney did “I
Wanna Boogie With You,” Lee Renaldo sang “Ocean,”the Bush Tetras rocked “Run Run Run,” Jenni Muldaur and Victoria Williams did an appropriately quirky “I'm Sticking with You,” J.G. Thirwell supplied a menacing “Men of Good Fortune," and
Lenny Kaye put his own twist on “I'm Set Free.”

Fleming and Willner tackle a Reed rarity. photo: EG

Perhaps the biggest surprise was that the Willner himself joined
Don Fleming for a VU rarity, “Temptation Inside Your Heart.” Fleming seemed to
be adding Lou's own comments from the original bootleg recording of the song —
the sign of a fan who's listened to a record several dozen times.

photo: EG

The rocker
who does not age, David Johansen — who has looked to be in his mid-40s for the last two decades — sang a later Lou song, “I Believe in Love” from the Rock and Roll Heart LP).The two standouts of the early show were Kembra Pfahler and
her “Voluptuous Horror” friends naked (well, nearly) in body paint essaying one of Lou's sillier but catchy tunes, “Disco Mystic.” (The title is the only lyric —
and in case we forgot that, a young lady carrying a giant sign with the two
words emblazoned on it took center stage in the middle of the tune.)

Kembra Pfahler and her chromatic friends. photo: EG

The only thing that could possibly top that bizarre
spectacle was the show's finale, the Velvets' noise-jam masterpiece “Sister Ray” performed by Yo La Tengo (who earlier performed “I Heard Her Call My
Name”), half of Sonic Youth (the half that wasn't married to each other), and
the other hand-picked house band members, with Kembra in red paint, her
young-boy clone in blue paint, and Felice joining in as background dancers
(backing vocals are not required on “Sister Ray” — if they did appear they
wouldn't be heard anyway).

photo: EG

The fact that anyone even attempted to cover that song is
laudable, and Lee Renaldo and Ira Kaplan certainly did have a nice little
guitar “battle” going on while Kenny Margolis filled in nicely on the organ.*****The second live show was a reading of Reed's lyrics. This
occurred during the afternoon period when the rain began and didn't stop until
9:45, a few minutes after the festivities were over (ain't it always the way?).
This was perhaps the most unusual, as readings of rock lyrics always seem a bit
“off,” since those familiar with the words in their natural context want to
hear the music (granted, two musicians did play in low tones to accompany the
readers).

Willem Dafoe amidst the umbrellas.
photo: drenched EG

This event was held in the Hearst Plaza in front of the
Library of the Performing Arts, the worst place to see a performance on the LC
campus, as you view the performers through a maze of leaves and branches (trees
dot the Plaza, their willowy branches reaching down into the sight-lines of
every audience member except those who stake out seats in the very first row).Add to that a constant downpour, and it goes without saying
that diehard Lou fans were the only folks who stuck it out. (Aside from a few
celeb-gawpers who would spawn gills to see their indie-move faves.) Thus the
distinct lack of photos from this part of the day’s events — it was interesting
to see that none of the major outlets that reviewed the shows (Rolling
Stone, The Wall Street Journal, Brooklyn Vegan) paid a penny for the
pics taken by those in the first row (thus my joy in getting at least one photo
in focus, not destroyed by the rain).More's the pity, since this show contained both great and
bizarre pairings of performer and lyric. In the latter category let me jump
right to my choice for the most unusual person to recite a Lou lyric, Elizabeth
Ashley. Laurie Anderson announced that the participants in the three shows were
all friends of Lou's, and Ashley did indeed participate in the
Raven album. Still, Ashley is an actress whose performing
style harkens back to the “grand dames” of earlier eras of theater (think
Tallulah, darling!).Thus, when Ashley announced that she would be reading “The
Black Angel's Death Song,” my brain pretty much exploded — here, the star of
the incredibly strange Funhouse cult favorite Windows was
reciting the most surreal lyric in the VU canon. (“And roverman's refrain of
the sacrilege recluse/For the loss of a horse/Went the bowels and a tail of a
rat/Come again, choose to go...”)

"Maggie the Cat" (aka Elizabeth Ashley). photo: EG

After Ashley's turn (she also performed “The Day John Kennedy
Died” and “Guilty”), the notion of “Samantha” from Sex and the
City, Kim Cattrall, reading Lou's lyrics didn't seem unusual at all.
She seemed quite delighted to be tackling “The Power of Positive Drinking” and
“Tripitena’s Speech/Who Am I?” Another actor whom one wouldn’t immediately
identify with Lou Reed, Fisher Stevens (yes, he played Poe on the
Raven LP , but his Short Circuit
performance has defined him in the minds of those of a certain age) offered
creditable performances of “Change” and two truly tortured tunes, “Sad Song,”
and Kill Your Sons.”Julian Schnabel — whose look perplexes me (is he trying to
be Peter Ustinov or Theo Bikel?) — discussed his friendship with Lou (as he is
wont to do) in between reciting “Rock Minuet,” “The Bed,” and “Sword of
Damocles” (from an album I consider the most underrated Reed album, the superb
Magic and Loss).*Poet Anne Carson leavened the proceedings by acknowledging
her “dull, monotone” delivery of poetry — of all the speakers, though, she was
the one who honored Reed’s words the most, as she read the humorous number
“Hookywooky” and perhaps the finest-ever meditation on the allure, comfort, and
terror of drugs, “Heroin.”Laurie Anderson (wearing what can only be described as a super-cute
“pixie hat”) did a pitch-perfect reading of “A Dream,” written for
Songs for Drella, in which Lou openly acknowledges the
breach between himself and Warhol. Her turn was beautifully complemented by
Steve Buscemi’s conversational take on “Walk on the Wild Side.” In his very
capable hands the song became a kind of prose-poem, the type of thing a
“survivor” of the Warhol scene would be saying to someone in the corner of a
café or bar. (Buscemi also performed “Billy” and “Caroline Says.”)Terrific renditions of some of Lou’s best NYC lyrics were
delivered by Natasha Lyonne and Willem Dafoe. Dafoe brought life to the “Street
Hassle” suite and the journalism-as-poetry classic “Dirty Boulevard.” He also
dared to “play” Lou in a recreation of one of the many funny/cranky interviews
Lou gave (this one from 1974 in Australia), with Carson as the clueless
interviewer. Here’s the real thing:

Lyonne also got the chance to play Lou, as she read his
dialogue from Paul Auster and Wayne Wang’s underrated (sadly forgotten) film
Blue in the Face (1995).

She also read “The Last American Whale” and an aptly Nu
Yawk-ish version of “Coney Island Baby.” As the rain continued to douse us all
(pissed off, but not deterred, we were…), it was onto the third show….*****

The final show of the day was definitely conceived of as an
affectionate celebration of Lou’s work. As noted, it was supposed to be a
collection of his love songs but instead turned out to be a rather solid survey
of his most emotional songs (the emotions left out were anger, which fueled a
few of his memorable rockers, and dread, which produced the masterful “Waves of
Fear”).This particular show has been written up in various places
across the Net, to the extent that the Brooklyn Vegan site had access to an
official set list for the show. Thus, I don’t need to discuss the event as a
whole for posterity (as I have done with Willner’s shows that haven’t been
reviewed elsewhere). Despite the lousy weather, this show filled the Damrosch
Park venue, whereas the first show was barely half full (NYCers are pretty lazy
these days, and even the prospect of a great rock concert can’t get them to a
free concert before noon).So I want to focus solely on the highlights of the show. Of
the women singers, Jenni Muldaur did a great rendition of the VU’s “Jesus,”
Victoria Williams offered a quirky and tuneful “Satellite of Love,” Nona
Hendrix did a rockin’ “Ride Sally Ride,” and guest star Lucinda Williams
offered a gorgeous “country” rendition of “Pale Blue Eyes.”

As for the male rockers, Garland Jeffries did a great job
with a song that isn’t exactly a classic (or all that musical), “My House” from
The Blue Mask. David Johansen returned to offer up a great
“Oh! Sweet Nuthin’,” accompanied by Bowie stalwart Earl Slick on guitar.

Along with a singing partner, John Cameron Mitchell showed
that Lou’s songs can sound blissfully “Broadway” with wonderful harmonizing of “Turning Time Around” (a real, bona fide Reed love song from the
Ecstasyalbum) and “I Found a Reason.”

As could be expected, Laurie Anderson supplied the night’s
quietest, most emotional Reed covers with her versions of “Sunday Morning” and
“Doin' the Things That We Want To.” Her final performance was “Junior Daddy”
from the Lulu album. Lou was truly “present” during this
performance, as she and her fellow musicians accompanied his recorded vocal.Lenny Kaye returned to close the show in perfect style with “Sweet Jane,” the only other song to be heard in both rock shows (Harper Simon sang it
earlier). Kaye was an excellent choice to close out the day, since he was not
only a colleague and contemporary of Lou’s, but is also a rocker who doubles as
a writer (or is it the other way around?).

Anohni at the evening show. photo: EG

And while every participant distinguished themselves in one
way or another, there was one indisputable “MVP.” Anohni (formerly Antony, of
Antony and the Johnsons) possesses such a strikingly beautiful voice that her
rendition of three Reed songs were without question the highlights of the
night. Lou might’ve been the one who crafted the songs, but Anohni’s instrument
is so overpoweringly emotional that her versions of “Femme Fatale,” “A New Age,” and especially “A Perfect Day,” were absolute knockouts.

The fact that hundreds of us didn’t leave in the incessant
downpour isn’t just a testament to Lou’s music, it’s also a reflection of how
well Anderson and Willner programmed the live shows. A few months back I felt
uneasy and, frankly, somewhat bored watching the live stream of the three-hour
tribute to Bowie at Radio City. In that instance I was watching songs I deeply
love being unimaginatively covered by (mostly) inappropriate musical acts and
was in the comfort of my home, but was bored silly.

At the three live shows that made up “The Bells”
celebration, as miserable as the weather was, as uncomfortable as it was
sitting being pelted by rain for four of the six and a half hours (spread out
over a ten-hour span), I was never bored, thanks to creative programming,
extremely talented performers, and good pairings of artist and material.
Attending the shows led me to break out and re-listen to Lou LPs the next day —
the ironclad proof of a good musical tribute….

*NOTE: For posterity’s sake, I should note that the other
items read at the poetry event were “Halloween Parade” and “Venus in Furs”;
also Lou’s meditation on his mentor Delmore Schwartz, “Andy’s Chest,” and “All
Tomorrow’s Parties.” (The first two were performed, I believe, by writer A.M.
Homes and the last three by poet Anne Waldman — verification needed on this info.)

That particular insane link leads to this other time that Lou DJ'ed at WPIX, in 1979. Stunning stuff, including Lou going on Lenny-overdrive as he complains about rock reviewers (sounds like he's about to launch into "Father Flotsky's Triumph" at any moment), plays both Nico and Bobby Short (!) records, and welcomes a very special guest (of Welsh extraction...)— Listen to it!